


Court This Disaster

by brighidg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-17
Updated: 2009-11-09
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10798740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brighidg/pseuds/brighidg
Summary: An unexpected run-in with Draco Malfoy at her sister's wedding turns Asteria Greengrass' life upside-down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

The last time she had seen Malfoy was over two years before at a Slytherin-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Like the last four matches he had attended, Malfoy had been off his head on Merlin-knows-what and more obnoxious than she remembered. And just like the last four matches he had attended, Malfoy had heckled both teams with his more snide comments directed towards the new Seeker for Slytherin. 

 

“Ace pair of tits, Greengrass. Really.” At her affronted look, he had only smirked before his gaze dropped once again towards her chest. “If the previous games are any indication, you won't even notice the Snitch till Cauldwell there has caught it so I've decided to focus on your better assets.”

 

Once Asteria had overcome her shock, she had responded with a Stinging Hex that earned her a foul and a week of detention. It had been worth every blister she got from digging up and moving the Flutterby Bushes for Sprout. Her only disappointment had been when Malfoy failed to show up for future matches; she had wanted him to be there when she caught the Snitch so she could shove it in his pointy little face. She found herself surprised that she was tempted to go over to his corner table now and do just that, albeit sans Snitch.

 

“So, er, what's the story with Malfoy?” Ernie Macmillian asked, gesturing towards where the wizard sat perched near the wireless radio, his back to them. “I thought your parents and the Malfoys didn't get along?”

 

“They don't,” Daphne told her fiancé, a golden blonde curl falling loose from her elaborate up-do as she leaned against his shoulder. “It's complicated.”

 

“Not that complicated,” Asteria muttered into her wine. As long as she could remember, her parents had both despised the Malfoys and envied their stature in wizarding society. Hélène Greengrass would bitterly complain that her family was just as old and pure as the Blacks (and certainly more so than the “questionable” Malfoys) while anxiously awaiting an invitation to Narcissa Malfoy's next social event. When Lucius Malfoy had been arrested, Linus Greengrass had hurried home and gleefully told his wife the news. They had lived in a world ruled by the Malfoys and hated every minute of it.

 

Along with her sisters, Asteria had been invited to a few of those events – mostly lavish birthday parties thrown for Draco when he was younger. It had been over a decade since the last one, but she remembered it clearly for how the men had left to have far more interesting conversations about Quidditch and politics while the women were left to one-up each other by talking about their husbands and children. Moments like that were what made her realize the last thing she wanted to do was be an idle pureblood wife with nothing to do but polish her jewelry and plan parties, cloistered far away from the world. She wanted to be the one out there making money, making a name for herself; not relying on her husband to do so for both of them. 

 

Not that she would marry. Asteria was beginning to doubt that she was suited for it the way Kallisto and Daphne were. Thanks to her busy N.E.W.T.s year followed by a hectic start as a Trainee Healer at St. Mungo's, she hadn't had a boyfriend in three years. More telling, she hadn't noticed till her mum had helpfully mentioned it earlier. Plucking the cocktail stick from her empty glass, she sucked on the gin-soaked olive while watching the couples waltz around the ballroom. Nearby Daphne and Ernie kissed and cooed at each other, and Asteria realized that there was only one thing she felt bereft of and it wasn't companionship or long moonlit walks.

 

“Well, they must be friends if your mum invited them to the wedding,” Ernie said once he and Daphne had come up for air. Asteria snorted at this. Ernie seemed disinclined to think poorly of Mrs. Greengrass, and why should he? To him, she was a gracious, charming woman who adored Ernie so much that if Daphne weren't marrying him, Hélène might have adopted him.

 

“She invited Narcissa Malfoy and a guest to show-off,” Daphne stated, stressing those three words because everyone knew Lucius Malfoy would not be attending. The elder Malfoy would be under house arrest for the next several years and was _persona non grata_ besides.

 

Setting her glass down, Asteria turned to the couple. “I doubt our mum expected any of them to show.” 

 

Or that Draco Malfoy would arrive alone to the reception, sit quietly in one of the far corner tables he'd been shown to, then park himself at the bar after dinner for the remainder of the evening. 

 

“There's Kalli!” Daphne gasped, rising from her chair as their sister and new brother-in-law entered the ballroom. The Greengrasses had spared no expense for the wedding for their eldest daughter; whether it was decorating the ballroom of Green Park with hundreds of flowers all in blue, pale silvery purple and white,  the gilded carriage flown by two Abraxans awaiting the couple outside or the snow white silk gown Kallisto wore now. Asteria knew it was the finest wedding she would ever see, at least until Daphne's the following year. 

 

Still atop the spiral staircase that led down to the ballroom, Kallisto and Roger Davies smiled down at their guests. While her sister had always been graceful and blessed with warm good looks like Daphne and their mother, Asteria never remembered her being quite as stunning as she was now. From the Davies' heirloom white-and-blue sapphire tiara perched in her blonde hair to the dainty white satin shoes she wore, she seemed to radiate happiness.

 

Pointing her wand to her throat to amplify her words to the crowd, Kallisto announced, “It's time for the bouquet toss!”

 

Cheers and giggles floated up from the room, in turn Asteria sighed and slumped down in her seat. She had no hope of going unnoticed, not with Daphne nearby. Clamping down on her wrist, she tugged her younger sister along. “Oh, come along Azzy! You can't sit this out!”

 

Trudging along behind her, Daphne pulled them to the front of the crowd, much to Asteria's dismay. Spotting her sisters, Kallisto pointed her bouquet at Asteria and winked. That and Daphne's laugh made her wonder if they had planned this beforehand. As Kallisto turned her back, readying herself for the throw, Asteria had the odd sensation of being watched. It took a few moments, with all the female guests crowding around her to vie for the bouquet but she soon found the source. Having finally pulled his attention away from the radio and his drink, Malfoy was watching the proceedings with an inscrutable expression.

 

Raising an eyebrow, she coolly stared back and fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. It became more of a struggle when Malfoy let his gaze wander slowly down her figure then back up again before meeting her eyes and allowing a lazy smile to spread across his face. Rolling her eyes, Asteria was ready to fix him with her most withering gaze.

 

Unfortunately, Kallisto's bouquet hitting her right in the temple prevented Asteria from doing that. Blinking in surprise and stepping back to avoid the melee as guests scrabbled for the bouquet on the ground, she walked away. She'd had her fill of this wedding and needed a drink. 

 

“I'm fine, Daphne,” Asteria muttered, her sister calling after her. It was true: the only thing she'd hurt was her pride. Fishing stray flowers and petals out of her hair, she stopped at the bar, hoping against hope that Malfoy hadn't seen that. “Whisky, neat.”

 

“Congratulations, Greengrass. Your reflexes are as sharp as ever.” 

 

Bristling, she told Malfoy to “sod off” before taking a drink from her glass.

 

“That's no way to speak to a guest,” he chided in a sing-song tone.

 

Mimicking that tone, Asteria retorted, “I didn't invite you!”

 

“Immaterial. I am--” 

 

Whatever he had intended to say next was cut off by the radio next to him. “Puffling catches the Snitch and the Australian National Team beats Peru, four hundred ninety to three hundred forty!”

 

Judging from the scowl that had settled onto Malfoy's face he'd been rooting for the favored winners, the Peruvian National Team. Suddenly she felt much better about the evening. “You know with Puffling as Seeker and the strong defense Taylor has built, I think the Australians will do quite well. Maybe even go all the way to the World Cup.” Asteria raised her glass in mock-cheers and lied, “Hope you didn't have any money on the game.”

 

“You surprise me, Greengrass. Having seen you play, I wouldn't have guessed you knew a thing about Quidditch.”

 

His barbs couldn't dampen her alcohol-fueled feelings of good will. “Remembering your illustrious streak while Seeker, I could return the sentiment.” 

 

From the way Malfoy's face twisted into something ugly, Asteria knew she'd hit her mark. Malfoy recovered, schooling his features into a look of studied boredom. “Perhaps, but I did catch the Snitch on occasion – a feat I don't recall you accomplishing.” 

 

“I did.” She hated herself for the defensiveness she heard in her voice. “You just weren't there to see it.”

 

“Of course you did,” Malfoy answered, his tone suggesting he was talking to a small child about their invisible friend. “Must have been at some other game where you didn't hex any spectators.”

 

Instinctively and before she could stop herself, Asteria crossed her arms over her chest. She regretted it as soon as she saw the amused half-grin that played on his lips. Rather than move for fear she'd look like she was fidgeting under his gaze, Asteria tried to go on the offensive. “You deserved it for being such an absolute pig.” 

 

Malfoy made a lazy “mmm” sound in response, as if weighing the merits of her argument. Looking her over, his eyes settled on her chest in a very obvious way.  “On that note, nice dress.”

 

Like Daphne, Asteria disliked the dress her sister had chosen. It was very nice as far as bridesmaid dresses went: pale silver-colored silk with an empire waist, capped sleeves, and a scooped neck. Daphne hated it because it made her look washed out. Pale and black-haired, Asteria didn't have the same problems. No, she hated it for the very reason Malfoy had mentioned: on someone like her, it showed off an almost obscene amount. When she had voiced her objections, Kallisto had laughed her off and made some airy remark about “flaunting it.”

 

But she was determined not to let him rattle her any more than he had. 

 

“You seem quite obsessed with breasts. Unresolved Mummy issues we need to discuss?” His eyes met hers, his upper lip curling with disgust. Asteria barreled on before he could dish out any cutting remarks. “Or maybe you've just never seen any up close before – is that it?”

 

Malfoy laughed softly and Asteria blamed it on her drink that she found the sound not entirely unpleasant. “I assure you that's not the case.” Asteria knew he was speaking the truth. She remembered her mum mentioning some of Malfoy's exploits while on his grand tour. _< i>”Boozing and whoring his way through the continent, Narcissa must be proud.”</i>_

 

“Yours are passable.”

 

“Passable?” It was her turn to laugh. She straightened up and motioned to the bartender to refill her glass, a sort of reckless energy flowing through her. “You wound me! Just two years ago you were yelling in front of a stadium of people about my 'ace pair of tits' and now they're downgraded to passable?”

 

A look of surprise flitted across his face and Asteria hid her smile by taking a sip of her whisky. “Have you been hanging on that comment all this time? Tsk.”

 

“Oh, you've got me! It lingered on my mind and I went to bed every night thinking of all the obscene things you'd do to me if only we were to meet again.” Deciding to turn the tables on him, Asteria let her gaze rake down his body as she drawled, “All those lonely nights I've spent just wishing for an immature, scrawny, clearly-overcompensating-for- _< i>something</i>_ prat to come along and ravish me.”

 

Maddeningly enough, Malfoy smirked at this and abruptly stood. Surprised, it took all her self-control not to back away or react as he moved towards her. Asteria could smell the brandy as his breath came hot against her cheek, Malfoy close enough that his body was almost pressed against hers, his mouth just brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Oh, Greengrass, you wouldn't joke if you knew what you were missing."

 

Later she'd blame it on the whisky, not wanting to admit how the words moved through her like no alcohol could. It had to be the liquor, she would reason, that made her tilt her head, look him right in the eyes and reply, "Prove it."

 

Whatever he had expected her to say, that hadn't been it. A look of naked surprise came over him and though Asteria was ready for him to humiliate her and hate him in return, she couldn't help noticing he was much easier on the eyes when he wasn't sneering or trying his best to seem bored. He smirked and she braced herself for what was coming next, hoping she could up with the perfect scathing response to whatever he dished.

 

“You're on.”

 

Turning, he dropped a few Sickles on the bar, and with trembling hands, Asteria did the same. She couldn't believe this was happening and it was difficult not to feel nervous. At twenty-years old, the farthest she had ever gone with anyone were a few clumsy snogs back in Hogwarts. Then, she'd been too scared to go any farther. Now, the fear was (mostly) gone but she was a Trainee Healer, working twelve-hour days and had no time for a social life. The only men who paid her bit of attention were a couple of the older, very married Healers she worked alongside.

 

"So," Malfoy said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking very boyish for it, "the cloakroom or one of the supply closets?"

 

Asteria imagined the expression on her face must have been quite something because Malfoy immediately backpedaled. "It's just a laugh, Greengrass."

 

“Right.” She noticed Daphne watching them from her table, her brow furrowed in confusion. Any more dawdling and her sister would come over to investigate. “My place. There's an Apparition Point out in the garden we can use.”

 

Eager to be far from any curious relatives, she started towards the back garden, expecting Malfoy to follow. He did but as soon as they'd stepped outside, he grabbed her arm. “I can't Apparate.”

 

“You can't...” she sputtered. “Well, we can do Side-Along.” 

 

“I know how,” Malfoy sneered, looking at the fountain instead of her. “The Ministry doesn't let me. It's part of my probation. I can only travel by Floo or broom.” Before Asteria could ask, he added, “My broom is in the cloakroom. I don't think they'd appreciate a Summoning Charm so I'll be right back.”

 

Alone now in the cool summer night, the utter absurdity of what she was going to do hit her. Not only was Malfoy one of the biggest wankers to ever walk the earth, but they hadn't even kissed and she was going to shag him? She must be mad.

 

“I have no idea how you're going to fly in that, Greengrass,” he said, pointing the Nimbus at the skirt of her dress as he walked towards her. “Sidebroom, I guess?”

 

“I er... I guess.”

 

Malfoy stopped, the confusion written on his face giving away to understanding. “Sobered up, have we?” he asked softly. “Rethinking things?”

 

“We haven't even kissed!” And she was starting to think that sleeping with someone she was sorely tempted to hex was not the brightest plan she'd ever had.

 

“I didn't think this was about romance. If you're looking for something long-term then--”

 

“I don't want to date you,” she snapped and was surprised that he looked offended. “But we don't know if there's any... compatibility between us and I don't want to waste an entire night that could have been spent sleeping.”

 

“An entire night,” he drawled in mock-surprise. “My, aren't we ambitious?” 

 

Throwing up her hands, she was ready to walk away when his hand on her shoulder stilled her.

 

“You're right.” Malfoy slid an arm around her waist and her hands instinctively came to rest on his chest. “Let's see if it's worth it?”

 

He leaned in, lips almost on hers when he paused, tilting his head. Though she followed in response, Malfoy refused to close the gap, watching amusedly as she moved closer in anticipation. Impatient with the game and annoyed by his smug attitude, Asteria tugged at his cravat, enjoying the surprised look on his face before their lips met. At first the kiss was more force than finesse; then his tongue slid into her mouth, his other hand cupping her neck, and Asteria couldn't help but let out a small moan. 

 

Breaking off the kiss, he asked, “Good enough?”

 

Recovering enough to feign indifference - or as much as her flushed cheeks would allow – she gave a wry half-grin. “Passable.”

 

Malfoy chuckled, taking her hand. “We should hurry before Queenie comes looking for us.” 

 

Holding her skirt so she could walk, Asteria followed him down the steps, the pair stopping near the fountain that was the centerpiece of the garden. Whether it was from the chill in the air or her own nerves, goose-bumps had risen on the little bit of her arms not covered by her opera gloves. 

 

“Here,” Malfoy stripped off his own navy blue satin jacket and held it out for her. When she didn't move, he gave it a little shake. “Well, come on, it's a long flight from Ikley Moor and this won't be much fun if you're frozen solid.”

 

She slid into the jacket, Malfoy guiding it over her shoulders, his knuckles very deliberately brushing against the sides of her breasts before he dropped his hands. Wanting him to repeat that action but not willing to admit, Asteria gave a shaky laugh before looking over her shoulder. “Trying to cop a feel, Malfoy?”

 

He shrugged, eyes flickering down to her lips.“Why not?”

 

Just as their kiss deepened and she began wonder if it wouldn't have been wiser to run off to the cloakroom, a distant voice called, “Azzy?”

 

“Oh, Merlin,” she muttered, pushing a confused Malfoy away. “It's my mum. We need to get out of here.”

 

“Asteria?” She was coming closer.

 

“Let's go,” Asteria said, hitting his shoulder. The last thing she wanted was her mum finding her sneaking off with Draco Malfoy of all people. Malfoy mounted his Nimbus and Asteria sat aside, arms around his waist as she did. She had never tried riding sidebroom before and hated the feeling of flying when not in control of the broom. 

 

Malfoy kicked off and Asteria instinctively pressed closer as they gained speed. Mouth almost against his ear, she whispered, “My flat's at the corner of Knockturn and Diagon Alleys.”

 

Not the greatest spot but the rent was cheap. 

 

“Right, yeah,” he replied in a strained voice.

 

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes in the hopes it would make the flight go by quicker. The feel of him breathing and the warmth of his body were enough to distract her from the swooping sensation in her stomach. 

 

Her eyes flew open as they dropped in altitude. She could see her block of flats right next to the Obscurus Books publishing shop. 

 

“Which one is it?”

 

“Right there,” she said, pointing towards her balcony. “Third one down, with the lit lantern and the potted plants.”

 

The pair landed on the balcony. Asteria drew her wand from her purse enchanted with an Undetectable Extension charm and undid the locking charms on the French doors. Once inside, she lit the dozen or so Kwiklite Candles cast about her sitting room with an easy flick.  The flat itself wasn't very large and most of her furniture was second-hand, giving her sitting room a worn if comfortable look.

 

“It's er... nice,” Malfoy said, eyes locked on her while she let her hair down from ornate style she'd worn for the wedding. Clearing his throat, he broke eye contact, shifting on his feet.“The flat, I mean.”

 

“Thanks.” His jacket now lying on the back of a sofa, Asteria walked towards him, pulling off her white gloves as she moved. 

 

“If you're staying,” she said quietly, her bare fingers idly tracing the top button of his waistcoat, “close the door.”

 

He did. 


	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: Thanks to Queenb23 for betaing this and for all her encouragement!  


* * *

Asteria was hypnotized by the smoke rings as they floated towards the ceiling, slowly fading as they made their ascent. Focusing on them allowed her to ignore the dull throb between her legs that was part frustration and part pain. The need for release was already subsiding and she had given up on the idea that she could grab that toy hidden in her top drawer and hide in the bathroom without Malfoy noticing.

Shifting slightly in bed as she pressed her thighs together, the frustration came back anew. Honestly, it might have been better if Malfoy had been a lousy lay.

Grabbing her wand from her nightstand, she summoned the dressing gown she'd bought last summer while visiting her uncle and his family in Muggle London. Her aunt had told her the blue matched her eyes.

Once dressed, she did a couple quick Cleaning Charms on the sheets and told a befuddled Malfoy, “I'm hungry. You?”

"Er... yeah," he said, blinking in confusion. He swung his legs over the bed and picked his trousers off the floor. Not for the first time, she was struck by how his shoulders looked too broad for his thin frame. If he were her patient, she'd tell him he needed to gain a stone. When Malfoy stood to pull on his trousers, Asteria averted her eyes. It was silly - just fifteen minutes ago she'd had her legs wrapped around his waist, each thrust leaving her writhing and panting underneath him - and now she was too shy to look at him.

"What do you have?"

"Enough for a couple of sandwiches,” she said, careful to look straight ahead as she walked out of the room. “Hope you like ale. It's either that or tea without milk. Or sugar.”

Or without the tea apparently, as she looked inside her empty tea tin. “Make that just ale.”

Between work and the wedding, Asteria had had no time for shopping and had the nearly-bare cold cupboard to show for it. Inside were four bottles of Ogden's Best Ale, an opened bag of Salt and Vinegar crisps, some sliced corned beef she had picked up at a Muggle deli, enough rye bread for one sandwich, and two full jars: one of pickles and the other of mustard.

“Ale's fine.” Malfoy strolled into the kitchen barefoot, hands in his pockets and his shirt haphazardly buttoned. Asteria held her breath as he came to stand behind her, his breath tickling her neck as he looked over her shoulder. The comment - the touch – she'd been expecting never came. Without a word he wandered into the sitting room to look at one of the bookcases. She winced as she thought of the pictures she had up there. One in particular marked her awkward early adolescence before she learned how to do her hair, groom her eyebrows, and before she'd had her teeth fixed. It was her and her aunt at Asteria's last ballet recital. She had loved dancing but with her fuller hips and breasts she was told she was getting “too heavy” to be a dancer and she felt awkward next to the other girls – graceful and slender like ballerinas should be in their tights and leotards. It was like being a Hippogriff in a room full of swans. Her mother would later console her by telling her she'd grow out of it and advising her never to get too thin or else she would look “horsey.”

“Potions Club, Glee Club, _Gobstones_ Club.” Asteria turned to see Malfoy examining the photos on one of her bookcases as she had expected. Perhaps sensing her attention, he looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “What an active social life you must have led.”

“There's more to life than Quidditch,” she said, placing the sandwiches, chips, and ale on the table.

“Luckily for you.” Malfoy came to a stop at the table. With a frown, he picked up one of the crisps. “Is this Muggle food?”

Having Squib and wizarding relatives all over the world, Asteria sometimes forgot how insular the British wizarding world could be. This was especially true among the former members of the upper-echelons of wizarding society. Much of Muggle culture that had permeated wizarding societies abroad – food, music, dress – was utterly foreign to many British wizards. “They're very popular with American wizards.”

Snorting, Malfoy muttered something under his breath. She didn't catch all of it but she did make out the words, “not proper wizards.” He did try a crisp, however, giving a little “hmph” sound that Asteria chose to interpret as reluctant enjoyment.

“What do you do at St. Mungo's?” Malfoy asked in-between bites of his sandwich. Her confusion must have been obvious because he jerked a thumb back in the direction the bookcases, clarifying, “There's a picture of you in your robes.”

That picture being the day she began at St. Mungo's, standing along with the others from her class, all of them in their myrtle green Trainee Healer robes. “I work in the Janus Thickney Ward or _I will_ ,” she amended with a small grin. “I don't officially begin my rotation until Monday.”

To her surprise, Malfoy looked rather interested. “You've been up there? Is it true what they say about the patient with the dog's head and that the rest are just you know,” to elaborate his point, Malfoy made a grotesque face – head lolling to the side, hands dangling limply in front of him and tongue hanging out.

“Are you having some sort of seizure?” Asteria asked coldly, raising an eyebrow at him. She wondered if he was trying to get a rise out of her or if being so obnoxious was second-nature to him.

He scowled. “It's a joke. What crawled up your arse and died?”

“Forgive me, I forgot how funny the Cruciatus Curse could be.”

For a brief moment, Malfoy looked wounded by this. Then he caught himself and schooled his features into haughty indifference. An awkward silence settled over the pair as they picked at their food and drank their ale. Belatedly, Asteria realized Malfoy might have taken her comment as a remark on his past.

While they had never been anything more than acquaintances, she doubted very much that he had enjoyed his time in You-Know-Who's ranks. She remembered seeing him around the Slytherin common room and the moody silence that marked their few shared Prefect rounds. Malfoy didn't strike her then as someone who was comfortable with what he was being asked to do. That was proven when he was stripped of his Head Boy badge after Easter hols for his inability to “help” the Carrows during detentions and falling out of favor with You-Know-Who. Crabbe then became Head Boy and Malfoy seemed to try his best to fade into the background.

Asteria's gaze slid down to his left arm resting on the table. The shirt cuffs were open and she could still see the bandage that covered most of his forearm. She had noticed earlier but – being more engrossed in other things – hadn't understood its significance.

That reminded her of something else. Earlier she had found with her hands and her mouth a faded scar that extended from his torso to his neck. It might be more than one, it was hard to tell, as it was very visible on his neck then disappeared on his chest. Pointing to her own neck, she asked, “What happened?”

His face darkened. “Potter happened.”

“Potter...” An old memory came to mind of her fourth year and rumors about a fight between Malfoy and Potter. “Pansy was telling the truth?”

“As hard as it may be to believe about Perfect Potter, yes, she was.”

She rolled her eyes. Her disbelief had nothing do with Potter and everything to do with Pansy and Malfoy. In her first year, when Pansy had told everyone how Malfoy's arm was _nearly torn off_ by a Hippogriff, Asteria learned that the pair were prone to wild exaggeration – to put it mildly. Three years later, when she claimed that Potter had nearly gutted Malfoy, Asteria ignored it as more of their antics.

Looking at the silvery-white scar that began under his left ear only to disappear above his sternum, she knew the only thing that could leave scars like that would be a Dark Curse.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Malfoy drawled.

“Are you done?” she asked, rising from her seat and indicating to his nearly empty plate. Not waiting for him to answer, Asteria grabbed it along with her own and made her way to the sink.

Since there were only two, she didn't bother with the charm, instead washing them the Muggle way. Wondering what should happen next and if it was time to shove him in the Floo saying she had work in the morning, Asteria glanced up and caught sight of Draco's reflection in the window over the sink. He had one hand draped over the back of the chair where he sat, his white-blond hair still ruffled from bed and an unreadable expression on his face as he watched her. Malfoy was too thin and pointy to be _handsome_ but she still found herself lingering over the curve of his lips and those hooded gray eyes. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant picture.

“Tonight was your first time, yeah?”

Her gripped tightened on the plate she was drying. Foolish as it was, she had hoped he wouldn't figure it out. Other than a few breathless groans about how “tight” she was, Malfoy hadn't said anything. As pointless as it was to deny it now, she still didn't want to tell him he was right.

“Don't be upset, Greengrass. It's always an honor to be someone's first. And you know, you weren't half bad so there's--”

“Oh, fuck off, Malfoy,” Asteria snapped, setting the plate down harder than she intended. He chuckled at this, coming over to where she was standing, his hands resting on her waist.

Those same hands slowly slid up her torso till Malfoy was cupping her breasts, thumbs slowly circling the peaks through the silk of her dressing gown. Even while hating the effect he had on her, she arched in his grasp, brushing against him. Pressing hard against her, Malfoy's mouth was on her neck, teeth scraping just below her ear before he whispered, “So, interested in another go?”

Judging from the lopsided grin he wore, he already knew the answer.

Pulling open the top of her dressing gown, Malfoy pushed up her breasts as they kissed, pinching the hardened nipples till she whimpered. Remembering how good it had felt when it had been his tongue and teeth teasing her, Asteria wriggled free from his grasp to turn to face him. Momentarily surprised, Malfoy recovered quickly, cupping her arse as they kissed. They took a few short steps like that, stopping when the table hit the back of her legs. He nudged her onto the table and hoping it was sturdy enough, Asteria sat down.

That simple movement was enough to make her loosened dressing gown fall open, leaving Asteria completely exposed in her brightly-lit kitchen. Instinctively, she attempted to close her legs but that was impossible with Malfoy standing in between them, so she instead tried covering herself with dressing gown.

“Don't.” He grabbed her wrist, trailing his fingers slowly down her inner thigh in a way that made her squirm. Face aflame and dropping her gaze, Asteria spread her legs as Malfoy stroked her clit with maddeningly light touches that left her wanting more. Soon she found herself splayed on the table, Malfoy's mouth covering one breast while his fingers pumped in and out of her. Sucking and biting her neck, he asked in a low voice, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

She would have thought that the way her hips were thrusting, trying to meet his movements would be answer enough but she gave a small nod.

“I'm sorry, I couldn't hear that.”

“You're an arse.”

Laughing softly at this, his ministrations didn't stop but his fingers now moved at an agonizingly slow pace, lazily stroking in and out.

“Malfoy,” she whined, not caring how wanton she must seem as tried to move her hips faster in hopes he'd comply.

“You didn't answer my question,” he chided.

“Yes, all right, yes.”

“Yes...?” he prompted, his fingers no longer moving in and out of her, instead slowly rubbing on her spot while his thumb applied pressure to her clit.

Certain she was going to go mad if he kept it up, she looked him right in the eye. “Fuck me.”

Malfoy responded by kissing her roughly, biting her lower lip before running his tongue over it. She heard the sound of him undoing his flies. Eager for him to feel his skin against hers again, she unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and onto the floor.

“Lie back,” he muttered before grabbing her hips tightly and pulling her legs onto his shoulders. The first time he had entered her slowly, with shallow strokes that had made her toes curl and want more. Now, Malfoy pushed inside in one smooth move, barely waiting before he started thrusting into her faster and faster. Like their first time, the pain she felt soon gave way to need. As much as she could, Asteria tried to match his movements, hips grinding against his as he fucked her.

It still wasn't enough.

“Touch yourself.” She blinked in surprise at the demand, her own embarrassment over doing such a thing in front of him warring with her excitement. “Do it, you know you want to.” Gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, he bit his lower lip in concentration as he slowed his movements, drawing out each thrust. “And I want to watch.”

She did. Lying back against the table, Asteria cupped her breasts, sliding her thumbs over her nipples, pinching them like he had. Malfoy fucked her harder in response and she was certain that if she had the patience, she could come just from this.

But she didn't have that kind of patience and her right hand snaked its way between her thighs. She rubbed her clit, moaning louder and louder as her orgasm built within her till it overtook her. Malfoy growled, hips snapping at an unsteady pace as he pounded into her until soon he came with a cry.

Hunched over her as he tried to catch his breath, Malfoy rested his head on her shoulder. He looked every bit as exhausted as she felt, and if she thought either of them capable of it without splinching, Asteria would have suggested Apparating to her bedroom. Struck by an odd sense of tenderness as she looked at Malfoy, she smoothed his damp hair back, hand cupping his face. Malfoy opened his eyes and she leaned into kiss him, a slower and softer kiss than any of the others that had preceded it.

“You can stay the night, if you want,” she said shyly when they broke apart. “It's late.”

Malfoy snorted. “I should bloody well think so.”


	3. Chapter 3

"I saw you leave with Draco Malfoy," Daphne said once the waiter was out of earshot. They were meeting for lunch at the Silver Chalice so her sister could discuss her wedding plans.   
  
Taking a sip of her water, Asteria remained composed. Meeting her sister's gaze, she reminded herself that it was she and _not_ Daphne who was the Legilimens. "The Floos were all crowded and I had a little too much to drink to attempt Apparating, so he offered me a flight home."  
  
"How chivalrous," Daphne responded dryly, clearly not believing a word.   
  
Schooling her features into a look of utter innocence, she nodded. Her family tended to think she was too naive for her own good, a useful if maddening assumption. "I thought so, yes. When did Pansy say she was meeting us here?"  
  
"Her Portkey was for a quarter to.” Daphne glanced at the delicate gold watch on her wrist, a birthday gift from Ernie. “She should be here any minute. Mum saw you leave, you know."  
  
“Did she see who with?” As soon as the question left her lips, Asteria realized how silly it was. If her mother had seen her leave the reception with Draco Malfoy, she would have heard from her by now. Possibly by Howler.  
  
“Of course not. You'd never hear the end of it if she had. She did see that you had left with a man and spent the rest of the night asking me if I had any idea who it could be,” her sister said casually, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder. Asteria was tempted to tell her everything. She wanted to tell someone and while Daphne disliked Malfoy, she wouldn't be angry or disappointed. Slightly nauseated and wondering if a Confundus Charm was involved, perhaps, but it wasn't as if she'd be disowned.  
  
Before she could do any of that, however, Daphne spoke again. “Mum kept asking Auntie Chava if that Muggle cousin of hers – the one who's about your age and unattached – will be visiting any time soon.”  
  
“I'm not dating some random Muggle!” Asteria blurted a little too loudly. Daphne's brown eyes went wide and she blinked in surprise.  
  
“I don't even know this person and Muggle-Wizard relationships rarely work out anyway.” Asteria grumbled, pushing back the dark curl that had come loose from her bun. “I reckon it's all that lying you have to do.”  
  
“Mmm-hmm.”  
  
Asteria scowled at her. “Remind me again of all the Muggles you've dated.”  
  
Daphne merely laughed. “Don't be so defensive, Azzy. Besides, Auntie Chava's cousin is a Muggle soldier and won't be visiting England any time soon, so you're safe. However, the Zellers' youngest boy just entered his final year at Hogwarts so don't be surprised if Mum starts inviting him for tea next June.”  
  
“Don't even joke about that.” Hélène Greengrass had believed that one of her daughters would be able to convince her husband to convert just like she had for her husband. Things hadn't quite worked out that way. Kallisto had no intention on raising her children in any faith and Daphne was actually converting rather than Ernie. So now all their mother's plans rested on Asteria.  
  
“With Kalli and I squared away, Mum can focus all her energy on making sure there's a canopy in store for you.”  
  
“I don't know why you need to convert, it's not like there's a shortage of Presbyterians,” she muttered, frowning as she realized how much she sounded like her mum.  
  
“Oh, please. You were always the most observant. It's only natural she would focus on you.”  
  
Asteria's frowned deepened. “Kalli might change her mind when she's ready to have children.”  
  
“You're joking, right?” Daphne said incredulously. “Have you forgotten the arguments the two of you would get into when she would tell you that ghosts weren't proof that there was an afterlife, just examples of magic we didn't understand yet?”  
  
She had. That argument had happened when Kallisto was fifteen and Asteria was eleven. Afterwards, out of a mixture of spite and genuine concern, she had told their rabbi what her sister had said and he had called Kallisto and their parents in for a talk. Two weeks had passed before her sister would speak to her again.  
  
“She's here!” Smiling brightly, Daphne stood. “Pansy!”  
  
Asteria turned just in time to see Pansy enter the restaurant, a white hat covering her dark bob and wearing a pale pink dress. Raising one gloved hand, Pansy waved. “Queenie!”  
  
The two women embraced, giggling and talking over each other. Asteria was reminded of their Hogwarts years when she was stuck tagging along with Daphne (for as long as her sister would allow) until she made friends of her own. Back then she had envied the friendship her sister and Pansy had shared and had resented Pansy for being closer to her sister than she was.  
  
“Oh and hullo to you too, Asteria,” Pansy said, turning to embrace her loosely and kiss her cheek like she had Daphne's. Once they were done exchanging pleasantries, the three sat and a conspiratorial smirk came across Pansy's face. “You'll never guess who I saw on a date with Eloise Midgen.”  
  
“Blaise Zabini?” Asteria asked, having passed by the couple earlier on her way to the restaurant.  
  
Pansy looked at her, then pouted at Daphne when she realized the other woman wasn't as surprised as she was. “You _knew_ about this? And you didn't tell me?”  
  
“Blaise has been sniffing around any and all female members of Dumbledore's Army since he returned from Italy. First he tried the Patil twins and they both turned him down,” she began, glancing to Asteria for confirmation, “then he had his sights set on Hannah Abbott but she was seeing someone so he took up with Su Li and they actually dated for a while but then broke up and for a week now it's been Eloise. I think he hopes he can marry someone who was on the winning side.”  
  
Pansy crinkled her nose. “But _Eloise Midgen_...”  
  
“Her acne has really cleared up since Hogwarts. And she's finally started dressing better,” Daphne offered with a small shrug.  
  
“Well, when he finally gets his vision checked, if he's willing to lower his standards to someone who only fought in the last battle, he's free to give me a call.”  
  
“Oh, darling,” Daphne cooed sympathetically, her face falling at Pansy's quip. Asteria stared at the two in confusion. “Does that mean it's over?”  
  
Attempting a brave smile, Pansy nodded. “I moved out at the beginning of the week and signed the papers last night.”  
  
“I'm so sorry.”  
  
“It's for the best. Alex has been absolutely miserable to live with since he lost the money he had tied up in the Muggle markets. Apparently the Muggles are off having a war in Central Asia and the economy only began to recover _after_ he took his money out of their markets.” She waved her hand as if shooing away a fly, her glove riding up slightly to show the blackened skin underneath. “He tried several times to explain to me what was happening but I couldn't make sense of it.”  
  
“So what happens now? Are you going to stay in the States or come back here?” Daphne asked, a hopeful note in her voice.  
  
“I'm never coming back to stay. England is the past for me and besides, I don't think Skeeter would appreciate the competition. No, I'm staying in the States but not in Connecticut. New York City is nice but I couldn't live there, there are Muggles _everywhere_ ,” she gave a small shudder.   
  
“Maybe I'll head out West, try California. With winter on the way, it would be nice to be somewhere that's always warm and sunny. Anyway, enough about me. How are the two of you?” She raised an eyebrow and grinned playfully at Asteria. “Dare I ask how we came by this knowledge of Blaise Zabini's personal life?”  
  
“My sister prefers moonlit flights with Draco Malfoy to Blaise's dubious charms.”  
  
Not wanting to talk about what had happened, Asteria rolled her eyes and lied, “He was just giving me a flight home, that's all.”  
  
“Out of the goodness of his heart?” Pansy asked, clearly not believing this anymore than Daphne had.   
  
In a teasing voice, her sister replied before Asteria could. “What, they doesn't sound _exactly_ like the boy we knew?”  
  
“Maybe the war has changed him for the better.”  
  
Daphne snorted at this. “I'll believe that when Crups fly.”   
  
Wishing the waiter would come by so they could get off this topic already, Asteria raised her water glass to her mouth.  
  
“But really, Azzy, I hope you didn't do anything stupid like sleep with him.”  
  
Asteria choked on her water, coughing and setting her glass down so she could grab the napkin off her lap.  
  
“I think that's 'no',” Pansy said dryly.  
  
“I hope so. Could you imagine sleeping with that tosser? He probably calls out his own name during sex.”  
  
Daphne and Pansy shared a laugh over this and Asteria was grateful that her recent coughing fit exempted her from joining in. Her face went pink as she remembered the things Malfoy _did_ say, the completely filthy things he would whisper hot against her neck as he slid between her legs.  
  
Misinterpreting her blush, Pansy took pity on her. “I think we've insulted your sister's honor.”  
  
“She'll survive.”  
  
Mercifully, before the conversation could go any further, the waiter finally came back to their table. “Ready to order?”

  


***  


 

After devoting nearly an hour to discussing flowers and the merits of scalloped potatoes versus roasted, Asteria understood why her sister had chosen Pansy as her maid-of-honor. Some time during the discussion of what differentiated navy blue from midnight blue and which would go best with the Macmillan tartan, Asteria had been ready to walk out of the restaurant. She'd spent a year listening to Kallisto go on about the same mind-numbingly dull details and now she would spend several months listening to Daphne do the same.  
  
Slipping back into the emerald green robes that identified her as second-year Trainee, she tightened her bun as she hurried back towards the Janus Thickey Ward. Checking her reflection in the mirror, Asteria realized she had yet to thank Nurse Tonks for that suggestion. When she had started on Monday, she'd worn her long black hair pulled away from her face but loose. This had proven to be a mistake as Frank Longbottom became very agitated when he saw her. After a lot of confusion it was the nurse who had figured out what the trouble was.  
  
Pulling out her wand, Asteria was about to unlock the doors to the ward when they opened. Nurse Tonks bustled out, her dark hair mostly covered by the white cap she wore and a large bottle of Skele-Gro in her hand.   
  
“Healer Leach is looking for you,” she said by way of greeting as she returned her wand to the pocket of her white apron.   
  
Merlin's beard, she had nearly forgotten. Today, they were going over spell damage that resulted in long-term mental problems. “Thank you.”  
  
Pushing the door open, Asteria nearly ran into Gilderoy Lockhart. Standing near the door he wore his usual uniform of paisley pajamas, lilac dressing gown, and a dazzling if vacant smile. “Well, hello again! Back so soon?”  
  
Lockhart's memory was a strange thing. Some weeks were very kind to him and he could remember the faces, if not names, of all the nurses and Healers as well as bits and pieces of his past. Then there were weeks where he didn't seem to remember what had happened a few hours ago.   
  
"Yes, I am back from lunch," Asteria answered, laying a hand on his shoulder so she could guide him back inside. "What were you up to? Not trying to sneak out, were you?"  
  
From what she had heard, Lockhart's attempts to escape were a regular occurrence. Once he got as far as the third floor before one of the nurses spotted him.  
  
"I wasn't going to leave!" he said quickly. "I just wanted to have a look around. Gets a bit dull here, you see."  
  
"I know." As one of the more active patients on the ward, Lockhart usually spent his time wandering aimlessly, signing autographs that would go to no one, and looking to the staff for company.   
  
"Is Healer Leach around?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him back towards his bed. "She might have more books for you to read."  
  
They had tried giving him his own books to read in the hopes that it would jog his memory but while amazed that he had once claimed to be so accomplished, he showed no memory of his past.  
  
"No, she had to go see another patient." His face fell into a frown and he leaned in, whispering to her, "Healer McFinley is there now and you know how I feel about _him_."  
  
“Is he?” She hadn't known who would be leading today's discussion but if McFinley was here, then it had to be him. Not a wizard known for his patience or bedside manner, if it weren't for talent he likely wouldn't have a job. In her two years at St. Mungo's, Asteria couldn't think of a single Healer, Medi-wizard, or nurse that McFinley _hadn't_ insulted.   
  
“Well, he's likely here to talk about memory loss,” she said as they entered the ward. “I don't think there will be much yelling today.”  
  
“Princess!” McFinley called out to her, Healers Patil and Deverill on either side of him. Standing between them like that only made their differences in appearance more obvious. Patil and Deverill looked how proper Healers should; she in her harlequin green robes that were buttoned up to her throat, her dark hair pulled into a french twist, and the only sign of ornamentation being the delicate gold hoop earrings she wore and him with close-cropped white beard, horn-rimmed glasses and gray robes under the neatly-pressed lime green Healer robes he wore. McFinley, in contrast, wore slightly rumpled lime green robes that were opened to show the Kenmare Kestrels t-shirt underneath. His curly brown-and-gray hair looked a bit wilder than usual which meant he'd probably been grabbing it while yelling at some poor Trainee Healer until they ran away, pissing themselves in fear and – as usual – he was sporting a five o'clock shadow despite it only being five after one.  
  
Asteria sighed and Lockhart scurried away, eager to put some distance between them. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”  
  
“I was escorting a patient --”  
  
Making a great show of being annoyed, he groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Did I ask?”  
  
“ _No_ but I just thought--”   
  
“Princess? No one cares.”   
  
Times like these, it galled her to remember how she once thought his behavior roguishly charming.  
  
“Now, since you're finally here we can begin our foray into the soul-crushing topic of the long-term mental effects from spell damage.”  
  
“I'll leave you to it, then,” Deverill murmured as he left the room.   
  
“Good riddance. All right. For today's topic we will be focusing on Mr. Lockhart, who is currently attempting to slip out of the ward by hiding by the doors -” both Padma and Asteria turned to find that Lockhart was indeed huddled in a corner by the door, waiting for them to open it - “and who is here due to an Memory Charm that backfired. I would take that as a prime example of divine retribution if I were to believe in such dragonshit. However, the next four patients prove why thinking there is any grand design is pointless and also are part of the reason I like to drink in the morning. First up is Heidi Macavoy,” he said, pointing to a young woman who was just a year younger than Asteria, huddled on her bed, back to them, “who at fourteen was chained-up at school and tortured repeatedly with the Cruciatus because her father was a Hit Wizard who refused to play along with the Death Eaters.”  
  
Moving aside, McFinley pointed to a man with a ponytail standing stock-still by the window, arms raised over his head. “Then there is Reginald Williams, a former Auror who, thanks to a combination of spells including but not limited to the Imperius Curse, thinks he is a tree, and finally -” McFinley gestured towards Alice and Frank Longbottom, sitting side by side and staring straight ahead - “we have the Longbottoms, who were tortured for so long they now suffer from a permanent case of CLBNH – Candles Lit, But Nobody's Home.”  
  
“Now, if you can hold off your questions until later when Healer Patil can hold your hand --”  
  
Asteria ignored this, instead gesturing towards the dog-headed woman who was currently trying to bunch up her bedding so she could sleep on it. “What about Agnes Sullivan? Surely her condition must have some complications that we need to discuss.”  
  
“While I'm certain it does, _Princess_ , unless you know how to speak dog, we won't be able to cover them just yet. Anything else?”  
  
Knowing that prolonging McFinley's stay would only lead to him being in a towering temper, she shook her head. One thing she had quickly learned about the wizard was that he hated any problem he couldn't solve and this ward was full of them.  
  
“Fantastic. Let's get started, shall we?”  
  
***  
  
“Macavoy is the one who's seen the most recovery from what I've heard. When they first brought her here, she wouldn't even let people near her and had to be fed and washed,” Padma told her later, after McFinley had left. “Leach says they'd learned a lot about how to treat her from the Longbottoms but after a certain point she hit a plateau and they haven't seen any improvements in her since.”  
  
“That's what I thought.” Asteria pursed her lips, wondering how to phrase the next question. Padma was a half-blood but she didn't know how much the other witch knew of Muggle medicine. There was also, as much as she hated to admit it, the little problem of her own competitive nature. She was determined to do great things here and very early on at her tenure at St. Mungo's, she quickly identified Padma as both a potential mentor and rival. “This might sound outlandish, but how familiar are you with psychiatry?”  
  
“The Muggle study into thoughts and emotions?” She gave Asteria an appraising look. “I get the general idea though my knowledge doesn't go much deeper than that.”  
  
“I don't know much myself, to be honest. But my uncle – he's a Squib – was telling me about it and how Muggles use it to treat people who've gone through traumatic events. I'm not sure how they do it or how it would work with those who won't talk,” she admitted reluctantly, “but I think it's worth a try.”  
  
Padma nodded her head. Gesturing about the room where everyone but Lockhart and Macavoy were laying on their beds despite it only being late afternoon, she said, “Anything has to be better than this.”  
  
“Gilderoy!” Healer Leach bustled into the room, nearly walking into Lockhart as she did. Shooting a cross look at Padma and Asteria, the older witch began fretting over her favorite patient. “You poor lamb, you must be bored out of your mind with _no one to talk to_. Why don't we work on a puzzle? Would you like that?”   
  
Lockhart barely had the chance to nod before she answered her own question. “Of course you would.”  
  
Padma rolled her eyes.   
  
“By the way, Healer Greengrass, you have a patient waiting for you downstairs in Casualty.” There was a disapproving note in Leach's voice, though for the life of her, Asteria couldn't figure out why. “Said he saw you over the weekend.”  
  
“I didn't see anyone...” her voice trailed off as she realized who it could be. Both Padma and Leach gave her an odd look. “Nevermind. I'll go see to them now.”  
  
“He's waiting in room 1 C,” Leach called after her.  
  
Hurrying towards the lift, Asteria checked her reflection on the mirrored surface inside. She bit her lower lip; if it wasn't him she'd feel ridiculous. But who else could it be? She hadn't seen any patients over the weekend, instead spending Friday doing research and Saturday at the wedding.  
  
Malfoy had left early Sunday morning. She had awoken to the sound of him moving around her bedroom as he got dressed and pretended to be asleep, hoping to avoid an awkward good-bye. However, Malfoy had seen right through this, kissing her on the forehead as he whispered, “See you around, Greengrass,” and smirking when she opened her eyes.  
  
Stepping out as soon as the doors of the lift opened, she gave a nod to the receptionist at the desk and stopped outside the room to gather her wits. Again, she thought if it wasn't Malfoy in there she would feel awfully foolish.  
  
And more disappointed than she cared to admit.  
  
Asteria entered the room to find Malfoy lounging on the table, hands behind his head as he looked about the room. He turned his head and gave a cocky grin when he saw her.  
  
“Malfoy, what are you doing here?”  
  
“I was in the area,” he said casually, sitting up but not moving from the table. “Thought I would pop in and see if you fancy a game of Healer.”  
  
She scoffed, assuming he was joking. “I have work to do.”  
  
“Later then. We can meet up at your place,” Malfoy said, shrugging off his obvious disappointment.  
  
“You really came over to see if we could get together later to...” her voice trailed off. This was easier when she'd had a few.  
  
“Fuck? Yes.” He rested his hands on her hips. Even under the layers of clothing she wore, Asteria felt her skin grown warm from the touch. “I know we had a bit of a bumpy start there, Greengrass, but by that third time, I really think we were getting into the swing of things.”  
  
That last time had been slow and lazy as they lay in bed together, her back against his chest and his hand slipping between her thighs as he slid inside her again. Asteria had spent all of Sunday and much of Monday replaying that and the other two times while wondering if he would call.   
  
Taking his hands in hers, she gently pushed them off and took a step back. “I don't know if that's a good idea.”  
  
He blinked, his open, joking demeanor evaporating. “Right.” Pushing off the table, he brushed past her as he walked out of the room, his jaw set and a hard look in his eyes. “My apologies for _bothering_ you.”  
  
She closed her eyes, memories of that night flooding her mind.  
  
“Malfoy--” Asteria turned to find the room empty. She hurried out after him, walking quickly and trying to sound calm and professional as she called after his retreating back, “Mr. Malfoy! A moment please.”  
  
“Yes, Healer Greengrass?” he asked coolly.  
  
With a nervous look around, she murmured, “I'll be home tonight by seven.”  
  
Remaining silent, Malfoy's only response was to arch his brow. Just when she wondered if she had made a mistake, he said, “Seven it is. See you then.”  
  
She nodded, turning to leave when he said in a louder voice, “Oh, and Healer Greengrass, thanks so much for the personal attention on such short notice.” He smirked. “I appreciate it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Asteria settled onto the bed beside Malfoy, pulling a sheet up to cover her breasts and watching as he used his wand to light a cigarette. “What do you do?”  
  
“What do I _do_?” he repeated, furrowing his brow.   
  
“Yes. When not going to the workplace of random witches to proposition them for sex until one of them finally agrees,” Malfoy snorted at this, “what do you do?”  
  
He was quiet for a moment and she wondered if this was a sore subject for him. Surely, if he'd had a job he liked, he would have bragged about it at some point. “I'm saving up money for a Potions' apprenticeship. I have an Aunt – my father's Aunt Aurelia – who knows a few of the great Potion Masters on the continent and she's already talked to a few of them on my behalf. She reckons I could find a spot with Fyodor Dobrolubsky,” Malfoy finished with a glance to her.  
  
If he thought she'd be impressed, he was right. “That's incredible - Dobrolubsky's one of the best Potioneers in Europe!”  
  
“The Parisian Potioneer's Periodical ranked him as _the_ best,” said Malfoy, a satisfied little smile on his lips as he took a drag of his cigarette.  
  
Asteria, however, hadn't forgotten her question. “So, what do you do now?”  
  
“Jesus, Greengrass,” he huffed. “I work at the Green Dragon, satisfied?”  
  
“Ah.” The Green Dragon was a tavern with an inn attached to it, like the Leaky Cauldron; however, that was where the similarities between the two ended. From what she had heard about the general ambiance and clientèle at the Green Dragon, it made the Hog's Head look like a friendly family establishment in comparison. As for the inn, Asteria had first heard the term “no-tell motel” when someone had tried to describe it.  
  
“Well, that's...” Asteria tried to find something that was both honest and encouraging. Malfoy looked at her, eyebrow arched as he waited for her to finish the sentence. “Well, it's wretched to be honest but at least it's temporary?”   
  
“Thank God for that,” Malfoy muttered sourly.  
  
Several moments passed without either of them speaking. A quick look at her watch told her it was a little after nine. They'd had dinner together – two shepherd's pies she had picked up from the Leaky on her way home – and talked about the Australian Team's chances against Mexico. It had been a tad awkward at first and even now she couldn't quite pinpoint what this was between them.  
  
“What are we doing?”  
  
He blinked at her. “Right now I'm enjoying a cigarette while you try to start a game of twenty questions.”  
  
“I mean _this_ ,” she said, gesturing to the two of them. “We're not dating and this wasn't a one-off --”  
  
“I _said_ I didn't want a relationship.”  
  
“I wasn't asking,” she said crisply, not entirely sure what she wanted from Malfoy. “But you can't just show up at my work unannounced.”  
  
He narrowed his eyes, looking affronted at this remark. Asteria folded her arms over her breasts. “I _work_ at the hospital. I'm not going to be able to drop what I'm doing whenever you feel like waltzing in without even Flooing beforehand--”  
  
“I can't. Not if I don't want the entire Ministry knowing my personal business.”  
  
“They're monitoring your Floo?”  
  
“And our letters. We're not allowed to have our own owls, we have to go through the post,” he blew out a puff of smoke with those final words, his cigarette now half its original size. Malfoy inclined his head towards her but didn't meet her gaze. “Would you, by chance, be interested in meeting regularly?”  
  
“What, every Saturday and Wednesday?”  
  
“Something like that, but not Saturday – I have to work then. Wednesdays and Thursdays would be fine.”  
  
Part of her wanted to laugh that they were actually discussing when to meet-up to have sex and part of her wondered if this was just how it was done. Somehow, she didn't think _Witch Weekly_ would have any helpful guides to negotiating friends-with-benefits relationships between its articles on wizarding celebrities and the latest trends in weddings. It certainly would have made an interesting counterpart to the previous issue's article on “Witches Who Waited” about three (pure-blood, of course) witches who waited so they could snag the best husband, she thought with a snort.  
  
Malfoy gave her an odd look. “Something wrong?”  
  
“No, no. Though Wednesdays won't do. I have to do research on Mondays and Wednesdays so I never know when I'll get home. Tuesdays and Thursdays, would be fine, however. We're not exclusive, right?”  
  
She knew the answer, she just wanted to be sure. As strange as this arrangement seemed to her, Asteria liked its practicality. Dating wouldn't be an option until she was done with her training, given that the little social life that she had, she preferred to spend with her friends. And she wasn't holding out hope that a young, attractive wizard who wasn't married and wasn't a nutter would begin working at St. Mungo's.   
  
“No, we're not exclusive. We'll continue meeting here in the evenings?”  
  
“Unless you want to meet at the manor, but that would be a bit awkward for your parents, don't you think?” Asteria grinned at him but he didn't return the gesture. Rather, he turned a pale shade of pink and frowned.  
  
“It doesn't make any sense to rent when I'm trying to save money and it's not like anyone would rent to me--”  
  
“I was just taking the mickey!”   
  
“Right,” he muttered, looking like an overgrown sulky child as he frowned around his cigarette.  
  
“Most wizards live at home until they're married. Some live with their parents _after_ they get married,” she began with a roll of her eyes, “I mean, Kalli and Roger will move in with my parents when they return, and Daphne's staying at home till she gets married then she's moving in with Ernie's family. There's nothing wrong with living at home.”  
  
“I didn't say there was.” He didn't look at her, instead focusing on his cigarette as he ashed it into the ashtray he had Transfigured out of a Knut. “So why don't you?”  
  
“Because then I'd have to _live at home_.” The first thing Asteria had done upon leaving Hogwarts was look for a place of her own. “I love my parents, but I find that the distance greatly improves my relationship with them.”  
  
Living at home would have meant her dad questioning her career choice and her friends and her mum constantly trying to set her up and fretting every time she went out for a flight. She was certain she would have gone mad within the first year.   
  
“I take it they're very protective of their baby girl.”  
  
“To put it mildly.” Her parents likely would have had heart failure if she had suggested traipsing around the continent on her own like Malfoy had. They hadn't even wanted her to play Quidditch. “Do you have another fag?”  
  
“No.” He handed her his cigarette, a gleam in his eyes. “You can have this one.”  
  
Asteria took it, taking a drag, the taste of smoke and ash filling her mouth. Malfoy's eyes stayed on her as she exhaled.  
  
“A tad hypocritical for a _Healer_ , isn't it?”  
  
“I usually only bother when I go out with my friends,” she said, the cigarette almost gone. “A hold-over from Hogwarts.”  
  
“Greengrass, are you telling me you used to sneak around, smoking in the girl's toilets?” Malfoy chuckled, looking thoroughly amused. “Next you'll be telling me you used to skiv off lessons to snog your boyfriend.”  
  
With a flick of her wand, she banished the cigarette butt. “No, but I did sneak out after curfew to go drinking.”  
  
Twice, and she'd been so nervous about being caught both times that she hadn't had more than a few sips.  
  
“You little hellion.”  
  
Her mouth dry, Asteria licked her lips. “What about you?”  
  
“No, I was a model Hogwarts student,” he drawled, eyes on her mouth.  
  
“I meant, when did you start smoking?”  
  
Frowning, Malfoy twirled his wand, the pale wood turning orange in the candlelight. “During my seventh year. It was relaxing.”  
  
Same time she had started.   
  
“And after it was just something to do.” A lonely image came to mind of Malfoy sitting in the corner of the some cavernous room in his manor, looking out the window as he smoked a cigarette and counted the days till his house arrest was over.  
  
Asteria settled down into the pillows with a sigh.  
  
“Tired?” Malfoy asked, brushing his knuckles against her arm.  
  
“Not really.” Physically, yes, but her mind was still running at full steam as she thought about what she would have to do tomorrow and the next time she'd be able to see her friends.  
  
She suppressed a smile as Malfoy's fingers slid under the sheet and traced over a rising nipple. He kissed her shoulder as he lay down beside her, his arm snaking around her waist as she turned towards him. “Good.”

* * *

  
Wednesday had crawled by at an agonizing pace. As usual, she had divided her time between the Hogwarts' Library and the one in St. Mungo's, surrounded by books and two years' worth of notes. Though it wouldn't be due till the final year of her training, Asteria had wanted to get a head start on her dissertation. Lycanthropy had seemed a natural choice for a subject, having been an interest of hers since her first year at Hogwarts. After a year of research, her ideas were finally coming together into something she could write about, something could stand up and defend.   
  
Her work kept her busy enough that she didn't have time to let her mind wander and when it did, she mostly fantasized about her dissertation. Asteria would imagine what the finished product would look like when she finally filled ten feet of parchment with her analysis. How good it would feel to be done and have it ready to present. She thought about how McFinley would react to whatever information she brought up in their advising sessions and how she would argue certain points. On a normal day, she'd be so completely focused on her work that little could distract her.  
  
Wednesday, however, she had found herself reading and re-reading the same page, the words barely making an impression on her. Instead of thinking about what she would say to McFinley at their next meeting, her mind replayed the night before. She couldn't stop thinking about how it had felt to have Malfoy buried inside her as she straddled him, their bodies rocking together. Asteria had reveled in the memory of how he hissed when she had tugged on his nipple with her teeth, the way his tongue had peeked out his mouth and slid across her thumb as it rested on his lips, and the hungry look he'd had in his eyes as he watched her.  
  
Later that night, lying alone in bed, she had slipped her hand between her thighs and pretended he was beside her. 

* * *

 Grabbing a handful of the green powder, Asteria called out the name of her building as she stepped into the Floo. It wasn't until she arrived in the entrance hall that she remembered she had nothing to eat. Standing there, looking back and forth between the Floo and the stairs that lead to her flat, she decided she didn't care. She was already late enough as it was. If Malfoy had left already then she would go to sleep early. And, if by chance he wasn't – well, it wasn't as if he were some stray Kneazle that only came around for the food.  
  
The sight of him sitting on the next flight of stairs up, arm resting on his knee as he idly twirled his wand, caused her to slow her steps. Even though Malfoy looked like he was in a bad mood, she enjoyed this chance to watch him unnoticed.  
  
Her eyes flickered down to his hand, his wand entwined between his long fingers. It looked different, longer, and the wood was a darker color than she remembered.  
  
He glanced over, arching a brow as he spotted her. “You're late.”  
  
“I know,” she muttered, walking up to the door and undoing the Locking Charms with a flick of her wand. “Are you hungry?”  
  
She didn't even know why she asked. The only thing she had was an almost-empty jar of pickles. It was just easier to pick up a pastry on the way to work, eat in the cafeteria, and then stop at the Leaky Cauldron for dinner than it was to shop.  
  
“No. Fortunately I'd had something for dinner before I settled in for a nice long _sit_ in your corridor.”  
  
Pulling open her Healer's robes – and trying not to smirk at the way Malfoy's eyes widened ever-so-slightly at this gesture – she looked over the clock as she shrugged them off. It was half-past. She couldn't believe he waited that long.  
  
“Your wand is different.”  
  
“I got a new one,” he said lazily. “The old one was rubbish.”  
  
“It was rubbish?” Asteria stared at him. Still pulling the bobby pins out of her hair, she shook her hair out of the tight French twist she had worn to work. “Did something happen to it?”  
  
She couldn't imagine replacing the wand she'd had as a girl. It would be like trying to replace an arm or leg; her wand was a part of her.  
  
“It never worked.” Before she could ask how that was even possible, he continued, “It was a replacement for my first wand which – before you ask and I know you will – was confiscated by the Ministry and snapped.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Malfoy sighed and she shrugged in response.  
  
“You didn't go to Azkaban. You weren't declared mentally incompetent. You weren't kicked out of Hogwarts. On what grounds did they snap your wand?”  
  
“You really can't figure it out?” he asked, bitterness woven into the question. “Potter and Kingsley tried to feed some dragonshit about there being a connection between the Dark Lord's wand and mine.”  
  
“And you think the reason was something else?”   
  
Malfoy scoffed. “Obviously. They just wanted to punish my family more, to leave us all defenseless as a bunch of Squibs. So they invented a reason that would allow them to take my wand without having to explain it or go through the Wizengamot. Can't imagine why, it's not like there would have been any resistance.”   
  
As much as part of her wanted to doubt this she remembered the outcry when it was revealed that the two Malfoy men would only be sentenced to house-arrest and Draco for only a year at that. Coupled with the new wand in his hand and what she knew of the Ministry's often-shady way of dealing with things, his explanation made sense.  
  
Merlin. Thinking of all this made her even more tired than she already was. Rubbing her forehead, she let out a little sigh.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
“Fine. It's just been a long day.” Along with the usual magical mishaps and injuries, today had seen a toddler who had swallowed a potion that their parents couldn't identify (McFinley had been the one to figure out that a Girding Potion was responsible), a teenager who had suffered a nasty fall from her broom while playing Quodpot, and finally, two MLE officers who had been in a duel with a suspect they'd been chasing.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” he said the words slowly as if it were a struggle to do so. From the look on his face and knowing that he had waited nearly a half-hour for her to arrive, it probably was. Yet, for a moment, she was tempted to say yes just to see his reaction.  
  
She smirked. “I'm as interested in talking about it as you are in hearing it.”  
  
“Thank God.” Coming closer, he wrapped his arms around her waist, body pressed tight against hers as he stood behind her. All the tension she'd been carrying around in her shoulders seemed to slide lower when Malfoy pushed aside her hair to kiss her neck, his hands palming her breasts through her blouse. Undoing the buttons of her shirt, he whispered, “I can't stop thinking about how you looked riding me, those fantastic tits of yours bounc-- Greengrass, did you dress up for me?”  
  
His hands on her cupping her breasts, he rested his chin on his shoulder as he looked down. Unlike the plain white bra she'd worn last time, today she was wearing a lacy pink number that had itched like hell but had delivered on its promise to “separate and lift”. She'd had to do a few tailoring charms on her shirt to keep the buttons from straining.   
  
“There was a sale yesterday at Madam Malkin's.” Which was true but really, although she would never admit it, she _had_ dressed up for him.   
  
“What fortuitous timing,” he said in an indulgent tone, slipping the straps of her bra down. Her annoyance flared up only to dissipate into desire when he undid her bra, thumbs brushing against her hardened nipples as his hands replaced the lacy fabric. Sucking an earlobe into his mouth, Malfoy used his teeth and tongue to leave bruises down her throat, stopping right where it met her shoulder. His hands had moved down to her plaid skirt, sliding around her waist till they found the zip. “I can't wait to see what the knickers look like.”  
  
Skirt unzipped, he pushed it past her hips, letting it slid to the floor. Asteria stepped out of it, kicking off her sensible flats at the same time. Malfoy made a funny noise and, face hot, she looked over her shoulder. The matching “knickers” were actually a thong. She hadn't wanted to buy it, rightly suspecting it would make her bum look huge but they were a set. From this angle, she couldn't make out the look on his face but it didn't look like he was laughing.  
  
Still, she wished it weren't so bloody bright in her living room. The French doors faced West and the thin curtains over them did nothing to hide the light from the setting sun.   
  
“They're very nice,” he murmured, lightly patting her arse and making her squirm. Wrapping one arm around her waist again, he pulled her close to him until his very obvious erection was pressed against the small of her back. His other hand covered hers, keeping it on top of the back of her couch, as he bent her over it. Looking up she saw her own reflection in the mirror over the corner table, right next to the door. She rolled her eyes, wondering if he'd been planning on this location or had decided to improvise once they entered her flat.   
“Pity you won't be wearing them for much longer,” Malfoy finished as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of knickers, pulling them down with him as he sunk to the floor.  
  
Surprised, she looked over shoulder again, the question dying on her lips he began kissing his way up her left thigh while he ran his knuckles over the inside of her right thigh. It was silly for so many logical reasons but this felt far more intimate and _obscene_ than anything they'd done before. She was strongly tempted to close her legs but found she couldn't move, her desire overcoming her fear.  
  
Asteria managed to whisper a half-hearted “Don't,” just as his tongue slid over her clit, making her knees tremble and fingers dig into the back of couch when he did it again. Spreading her legs and bending over further, she panted as he began teasing her with his mouth. He licked and sucked her until she was on the edge, needing more, needing his fingers or his cock.  
  
“Mmm-” she bit her lip, stifling her cry. The part of her brain that could still function stopped her from calling him by his last name. Then he sucked on her clit, tongue flicking over it, and all coherent thought disappeared as her climax washed over her. “Draco, _please_ , please, don't stop.”  
  
He didn't, not until she had stopped trembling and moaning. When he pulled away, she slowly straightened up, hands still resting on the back of the couch for the support. She leaned against him when he stood up behind her, one arm encircling his waist as he kissed her shoulder.  
  
“I suppose you'll want to be called 'Asteria' now?”  
  
“If we're going to keep doing this, yes,” she said breezily, tilting her head to look up at him. Draco kissed her fiercely and she whimpered as his tongue slid against hers. Reaching behind her back, she moved her hand up his thigh until she was cupping him through his trousers. He pulled away slightly, his lips still close to hers as groaned. Not for the first time, the idea of dropping to her knees and taking his cock into her mouth came to mind. She couldn't stop wondering what it would feel like, how he would look right then, if she would feel powerful or subjugated or both.  
  
But the moment passed. Draco grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away as he rasped in her ear, “I need to fuck you.”  
  
She nodded, that earlier desire to be filled by him coming back. At the sound of him unbuckling his trousers, Asteria leaned over the couch again, her arse almost pressed against him as she did. An impatient grunt and she heard his trousers hit the floor, one hand then gripping her hip as the other guided his cock inside. Her toes curled as he slowly slid in and she pushed back with a low sigh. Loving how every thrust from him felt deeper at this angle, she slipped a hand between her thighs.   
  
His strokes came faster and faster until he was fucking her hard, hands on her hips to keep her steady. She looked up in the mirror to find him watching as his cock slid in and out of her, his thrusts growing more unsteady as he did. Draco glanced at her in time to catch her eye, and the intense look she found left her breathless.   
  
Removing his hand from her hip, he grabbed her chin and kissed her again. She shuddered, grinding against him as the tension in her built until she came with a soft cry. Draco followed seconds later, arms wrapped around her as he breathed lewd endearments against her shoulder.


End file.
